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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25490509">Two of Them</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lighthouse/pseuds/lighthouse'>lighthouse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Two of Them [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Recovery, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memories, Mentions of suicidal tendencies, Non-Explicit Sex, POV Second Person, ambiguous WoL</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:07:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25490509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lighthouse/pseuds/lighthouse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days. In three days’ time, you will return to the Source with a crystal bearing the souls of your irreplaceable companions and the greatest love of your life. As you appreciate your final days in the Crystarium, your beloved Exarch approaches you with a tentative last minute change of plans. </p>
<p>A fic exploring "Two of Them"...what might happen if the WoL returns to the Source with the Exarch in tow, and they take it upon themselves to rouse G'raha Tia after five years of slumber.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Two of Them [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Crystal Exarch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is aught but quiet. There is nothing more to existence than the stillness of your breath, the worn wooden grain against your calloused hands, the string taut against your fingers, the circular black form of the bullseye before you. There is no fear, no nervousness, no worry about the journey you will make in three days’ time. You exhale, release, and your arrow finds it mark within the bullseye, but only just.</p>
<p>Perhaps not as composed as you wished, but judging from the cheers of the Crystarium Guard behind you, it is enough to be satisfying.</p>
<p>Then again, there is a bittersweet sentiment on the air of love and impending loss, of congratulations and change and heartache. You are not immune to the understanding that you will be missed, and the dear man you will bring along with you even more so.</p>
<p>Three days. In three days’ time, you will return to the Source with a crystal bearing the souls of your irreplaceable companions and the greatest love of your life. For all you have done, you have never carried any burden so precious, and imagining the very aether of those you hold dear pulsing against your palms is enough to make your breath stutter even now.</p>
<p>You bring your bow up to bear once more with a fresh arrow, still your mind, exhale and release. Another bullseye, but precariously close to the edge. The Guard cheers again, and as you turn to face them you do your best to put on a carefree smile—and blink in surprise.</p>
<p>So lost were you, you failed to register that the Crystal Exarch, your Raha, had joined the crowd of onlookers. Resplendent in light summer robes of red and white, the front cut high to end several ilms above his knees while the back billows long enough to nearly touch the ground, the lack of sleeves allowing the sunlight to refract off of his crystal arm and shoulders, throwing rainbows of light onto those nearest him. A child or perhaps some enterprising citizen has gifted him a crown of interwoven stick and dandelions, bright against the red of his braided hair. The golden sandals he wears snug against his powerful legs climb nearly all the way to his freckled thighs, and the result is glorious indeed. You will never tire of looking at him—solid and gentle, magical and beautiful, <em>yours</em>.  He gives a tentative smile as you meet his eyes, the crimson still slightly washed out from the passing of his Allag blood to his granddaughter a fortnight prior.</p>
<p>You return the smile in kind, your heart leaping in your breast at the sight of him, as it has done now for some few moons. With all of the preparations to be made for the elections and Lyna’s assumption of the Tower, the goodbyes to be said, the loose ends to be tied, he has been extremely busy of late, his work taking a nearly manic edge as he prepares to renew his life on the world where he was born. Granted, this burst of nerves was not limited to him—the other Scions are still away on their final tasks—Alisaie at the Inn, Alphinaud with the Chais, Urianger in Il Mheg, Y’shtola with Runar. Of course, there was also Thancred and Ryne, but their situation was a bit different.</p>
<p>As for yourself, you concluded your rounds two days prior, and your heart aches still with the heaviness of so many goodbyes delivered in such short order. Feo Ul has promised to deliver messages back and forth for you in the future, but for now, as the fated day draws nearer, you find yourself wishing more and more for privacy, for time to reflect and to enjoy the city that has become more a home to you than any one place on the Source ever managed.  </p>
<p>Did G’raha Tia feel the same, you wonder, before he locked himself away in the Syrcus Tower? This odd predilection toward solitude while also longing for company and closeness?</p>
<p>A very selfish part of you wants to stay here, to live out your days with the caretaker in this peace you’ve both worked so hard to attain. You know he would forgive you if you asked to remain with him here…but also that you would never forgive yourself for turning your back on your friends back home. To have such a gift in the Blessing and the Echo and yet leave Tataru, Krile, Aymeric, the Fortemps family, and many others to deal as they might with the Empire would leave a hollowness in your chest that would blight your happiness for the rest of your days.</p>
<p>And so you will go home, and you will fight…and to your overwhelming, overjoyed, guilty relief, your Raha has found a way to return with you.  </p>
<p>Looking into his eyes, you can see the hope writ clear, the anticipation and trepidation of taking such a journey, of pursuing such a life-altering change. But there is also love, and resolve, and unshakable trust in his expression when he looks at you of late—even now, with your wandering mind and unsteady hands blunting a skill that should come to you like breathing.</p>
<p>Perhaps it’s time you hand the attention over to someone else for a while, before you embarrass yourself with a less than heroic shot.</p>
<p>“Would you care to join us?” you ask, holding out your bow to him with a warm smile. He is an excellent archer, and no doubt the Guard would be cheered to see him in action…there were so few chances left to them to witness their caretaker at work, after all.</p>
<p>To your surprise he gives a pained smile and an apologetic incline of his head, tail swishing in a low arc behind him.</p>
<p>“Ah, I’m afraid I’ll have to refrain from participation today, but tomorrow I should be glad to join, if you’ll have me.” You try to hide your concern but feel your smile faltering—he is usually quite pleased to shoot alongside you, though in front of others he covers his enthusiasm somewhat with humility and practiced grace. At least the Guard seems excited about the prospect of training with him on the morrow, to your relief. “Actually, if it is not too much trouble, I should like to borrow our dear warrior for a while…there are some minor details that require address ahead of our pending journey.”</p>
<p>And so it is, bemused and wondering, that you follow him away from the training grounds and into the aetheryte rotunda, blinking against the brilliance of the midday sun all the way. You raise your brows as you realize that he means you teleport somewhere with him. At this crucial juncture, you can’t imagine why he would wish to leave the Crystarium.</p>
<p>“Where are we going?” you ask, and his lips purse at the question, ears slanting back with thought. </p>
<p>“…Fanow, I should think,” he says after a moment, with the air of only just having decided. Again, you wonder what he is about, but hold your peace. You’ll know soon enough, after all.</p>
<p>Still, your arrival in the Viis village is awkward, considering that you’d given your final parting words there about five days ago, and the inhabitants are justifiably surprised to see you again.  Raha comes to your rescue to explain the unexpected visit, and you blush and duck your head at the sharp grins and knowing looks cast in your direction.</p>
<p>Once the subject of your arrival is smoothed over, the Seeker reaches out for your hand, and you will never tire of the way his eyes light up when you lace your fingers with his. He smiles at you, looks away bashfully as he silently begins to lead you down the wooden entryway bridge to the breathtaking path of luminescent cerulean flowers leading deeper into the wood. There is an understanding between you that this will be explained in due course, and for now, you are satisfied…and pleased to be able to lay eyes on this part of the Greatwood once more in his company. Even when the Light had still ravaged the land, it never quite vanquished the damp smell of life under the canopy…a detail you’d appreciated dearly back when you had several Wardens roiling within your breast. Rak’tika was ever a place of peace for you, of natural goodness and fresh air.</p>
<p>Lost in your thoughts and appreciation for the mottled greenery and shafts of sunlight breaking through the leaves, you almost run into him when he comes to a stop at the base of a tree that is quite impressive in width, even by Rak’tika standards. A clear brook bubbles and warbles over rounded rocks to your left, while azure flowers tumble along the banks and carmine mushrooms crowd the tree trunk in clumped bursts of color. The moss beneath your feet is soft and springy, the air cool and welcome.</p>
<p>“Will this do for a place to talk?” he asks with a faint smile, even though he already knows the answer from your quiet expression of relaxed contentment.</p>
<p>“Of course, though I would have been just as happy to speak with you in one of the gardens,” you answer, wondering again why he chose to come away like this. The most meaningful conversations of your relationship had been held in the gazebo, or on one of the wrought iron garden benches, or even in the nestlike bed tucked away at the far end of the Tower enclosure.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes, well…” he says with a light blush, ears giving a self-conscious flick backwards. “I…I think it would do me some good to get out of the Crystarium for a bell or two, breathe some different air. I’ve paced the city up one end and down the other these past two days, caught up in what I soon shan’t be able to see anymore, and I…” he trails off, shaking his head with a frown.</p>
<p>“It’s alright,” you say gently, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve always loved it here.” You give a puff of fond laughter at how his ears perk as he brightens instantly, then ask “What’s on your mind, my dear one?” He blinks at the question, then sighs and indicates for you to sit down. You oblige, shifting to find a comfortable spot on the mossy root, and once you are settled he sits down to join you. For a while you both lean back against the massive hardwood and stare off into the canopy, you in patience, him no doubt gathering his thoughts.</p>
<p>“I’d always hoped to bring Lyna here, when she was a girl,” he muses finally. “I was naïve in thinking that myself being a miqo’te wouldn’t matter if I just raised her with love.” You look to him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. Most likely this topic in particular isn’t the real reason he’s called you out here, but you’ve grown quite fond of the roundabout story paths he takes to get to the heart of what he truly wishes to speak of.</p>
<p>“As you now realize,” he says, “the Viis of the First have a very proud heritage, and while when Lyna was small there was yet a stigma attached to those who left the forest, there remained a lofty cultural background shared among even the exiles of their people that I failed to understand the importance of  teaching her. She was far from the only child of their kind to be orphaned, and it wasn’t until she was, oh, nine or so, that I realized that she was being looked down upon by her peers for not understanding basic Viis religious and cultural practices.”</p>
<p>“So what did you do?” you ask, leaning against him to physically show you are listening and interested. His tail swishes for a moment, then settles lightly to rest against your backside.</p>
<p>“I attempted to come here and learn,” he says with a chuckle. “Obviously, the sensible thing to do would have been to speak to the Viis who had left the forest and were residing in the Crystarium from its early days. I had it in my head, however, that to make due for my transgressions, I would go straight to the source of her culture and learn of it in its purest form.”</p>
<p>“I bet that went well,” you say dryly, remembering the welcome you received when you first stepped foot into the heart of Rak’tika proper.</p>
<p>“About as well as you may imagine,” he laughs. “Needless to say, after I nursed my wounded pride for a day or two, I sought out a Viis couple who at the time worked in the Wandering Stairs, and they told me all I needed to know, sans arrows fired in my general direction.” You smile and turn to deliver an affectionate nuzzle to the ear closest to you, his red fur tickling at your nose.</p>
<p>“Are you telling me that you make life difficult for yourself sometimes?” you ask cheekily, and he blushes, shoots you a chagrined smile.</p>
<p>“Yes, I fear that’s exactly what I’m attempting to impart, albeit in a rather clumsy fashion,” he admits. “And I pray you’ll forgive me this shortcoming once you hear what I have to say…especially since this may cause some difficulty for you as well,” he says in a low voice, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. A cold pinprick of fear stabs at your heart as you look upon his troubled face, but you stay your emotions for now. After everything you’ve been through together, as much as he has professed to love you and shown his ardor in a kaleidoscope of varied manners, you cannot imagine that he would be having second thoughts now.</p>
<p>Although, you would understand if he did.</p>
<p>He looks to the canopy, then back to his hands as he begins to speak.</p>
<p>“For some time as I’ve conducted my research into how I might return with you, I’ve considered only one logical outcome, and pursued it with, ah, characteristic singular focus. That I would rejoin my body, yet sleeping on the Source, and be as a young man again with the full memory of my life as the Exarch...and subsequently have a lifetime to spend with you.” You nod quietly—that was how you’d understood the plan thus far, though of course the intricacies of how such a feat would be accomplished are lost on you. </p>
<p>He heaves a deep sigh, his tail flicking against your lower back in agitation.</p>
<p>“Of late, however, I...I believe such thinking may have been shortsighted, and...and insomuch as this stands to affect you, I should be glad of your opinion,” he says softly, finally looking to you with a vexed expression. You lean over a bit to offer him a gentle bunt to his forehead, as he is often wont to do with you.</p>
<p>“I’m listening,” you say, with what you hope is an encouraging smile. He favors you with a pained, apologetic half smile of his own before pushing himself up to stand, tail lashing behind him. </p>
<p>Ah, so he’s going to pace, you note ruefully as you take in the stains left by the moss on his pristine robes. Well, not that he’ll need them much longer anyway. You hope.</p>
<p>“The one who yet slumbers in the Tower is me, and yet not,” he says, studying the stream with a frown. “My own existence is within that of a split timeline, orphaned from what would have been, which explains my continued life. Were he left to sleep, the life he would arise to in the future would not be mine, though we share the exact same memories up to twenty four years of age.” He bends down to pick up a browning leaf, twirls it between his fingers before setting it on the surface of the flowing water. You both watch as it floats away, his melancholy nearly tangible in the air between you.</p>
<p>“When I was a young man,” he continues, turning to pace a ways down the bank, “I never thought of anything more than Allag, of my inevitable Azeyma-given destiny, for there had to be such a fate, surely, or I would not have been born with that eye. The thought that I might perish in lonesome obscurity as my father before me, and his father before him...it was more than I could bear. I was so determined to grasp that fate with my own two hands, so desperate, that I would have done anything...and in the end, I did. I...I turned my back on you. I loved you, but I was so very afraid you’d distract me from what I believed to be my truest purpose in life, and that all of my work would be for naught. Gods, how I loved you, and I still left,” he says softly, covering his face. You want to get up and go to him, but sense that he isn’t done. You’ve never spoken much of your early days together, and you have a feeling this is something he’s wanted to bring up for some time…best to let him continue. You pull your knees to your chest and lean against them instead, willing yourself to wait.</p>
<p>“I was falling for you, back then,” you venture, wondering if you should interrupt or not. “The night before you left, when you came to me…I remember waking in the darkness with you at my side, and I couldn’t sleep for dreaming of adventuring with you.” It hadn’t been love quite yet, but so close…as though they were standing together overlooking a brilliant vista, a beautiful path that they would soon journey together.</p>
<p>How sharply that dream had been cut short.</p>
<p>“I…at the time, I didn’t dare to believe you thought me your equal, for all I hoped that it might be possibly one day. But I knew you cared for me, knew when I looked into your eyes that night what it was that I was throwing away, but I still…” His voice breaks, and this time you do stand—but the glance he throws your way, regretful and pointed, lets you know that he’s not quite ready to be consoled. Discomfited, you lean back against the tree and cross your arms over your chest, more because you don’t know what to do with yourself than anything else.  </p>
<p>He turns on his heel and resumes pacing, ears low.</p>
<p>“I took so much from you. Your fragile hope that we might have a future together; your dearest companions, with aught more than vague explanations across the rift. I took years of their lives, and kept my reasons close. Eventually, I even took you, inflicted you with a dire trial, the consequences of which I did not fully divulge, and plotted to take myself from you again without telling you, because I believed it would be doing you a kindness.” He gives a huff of frustration, tail lashing and catching on his robes. “I grow weary of inflicting my mistaken  solitary judgements on those closest to me, of agonizing over the damage my foolishness has wrought upon others.” Your fingers dig into your arms as you ponder what to say…you’ve rarely seen him so caught up and disgruntled, and you’re well aware that you have nothing to offer that might make him feel better, save your love.</p>
<p>“We’ve both made mistakes,” you finally say gently. “But I love you, and I’ve forgiven you yours…what would help you to forgive yourself your missteps?”</p>
<p>“To learn from them!” he exclaims, halting in his tracks, ears twitching with frustration. “That young man sleeping in the Tower…he has his own life now. I have…he has…There’s potential for a life unfettered by the chains that I accepted as my fate, for something free and individual, and I…” He looks up to meet your eyes, his own stricken, “I can’t take that from him,” he says, as though tearing the words from his soul, eyes silently pleading with you for understanding.</p>
<p>You close your eyes, take a deep, calming breath, concentrate on the roughness of the bark at your back, the damp forest air on your skin.</p>
<p>“You said you wanted my opinion,” you say, once you’ve composed yourself, proud of how steady your voice turns out. “What is it that you wish to ask of me?” His mouth works as he looks to you and tries to form words, and he ends up having to look away before he can speak.</p>
<p>“I…I want to return with you. But when he wakes…I wish him to live his own life. Would…would that be acceptable?” he whispers, and your mouth falls open in astonishment. This is not what you thought he was leading up to at all, and you fumble with how to respond.</p>
<p>“You…you mean…there would be two of you?”</p>
<p>“Ah, yes…in a manner of speaking,” he answers, swallowing audibly and rubbing at his arms as he does when he’s nervous. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you move forward to take him into your arms, your mind whirling as he holds on to you as though for dear life, his breath puffing gently against your skin.</p>
<p>“I…I’ve always thought of you as him, albeit after a great many more years of life and experience,” you muse, half dazed. “Of course it’s acceptable, if that’s what you need! And, well, he is you, except…” You stop for a moment, attempting to gather your scattered thoughts. “How are you meaning to do this…?” you finally ask, stalling for time.</p>
<p>“I’d be something akin to what the Scions are now, a solidified soul. The Source Tower and the spire of the First remain the same structure regardless of time, so rather than being grounded by a slumbering body, I’ll ground myself with the Tower,” he explains, pulling back a touch to look into your eyes, anxiety and hope clear in his expression. “Obviously, I’ve never done this, but my research leads me to believe it will turn out well.” You reach up to brush your thumbs over freckled cheeks, amazed with his resourcefulness even as your mind races to categorize the implications of what this new plan will mean.</p>
<p>“When he wakes up, he’s…he’s still going to be in love with me, isn’t he?” you murmur, blushing and pensive with realization.</p>
<p>“Y-yes…very much.” You give a breathy exhalation, looking away for a bit to gather yourself.</p>
<p>Oh, how you’d pined after he’d gone, how you’d daydreamed for years of what it would be like to open those gates and see him again, to have him at your side once more to read and sing, to hunt and cook and <em>live</em>. And then, remarkably, most of that had come true upon saving the First, although not quite in the manner you’d imagined. To be offered the chance to see him again as a young man, to do those things that you’d dreamed of without his fate weighing down his every decision…to see the man he would have become had he not struck out on his solitary journey to save you…</p>
<p>When you see that young man again, you’re going to love him. Granted, part of that is unfairly understanding in full the scope of his love for you, the vastness of his potential, his genuine goodness. But another part will be the sparkling affection you still hold for the brave, conflicted, outspoken, eccentric young man he used to be.</p>
<p>“I…I realize this is a lot to take in,” he says quietly as you study the ground. “I don’t expect you to know what to do, not now, and not when it happens, either. To be honest, I don’t know what I’ll feel myself…I just can’t bear to take his life from him.”</p>
<p>“Do you want to share me with him?” you ask slowly, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “I have no idea how it would work, but…I’d be willing to try.” His lips part as he stares at you, eyes wide with wonder at the question, the subsequent tentative offer.</p>
<p>“I don’t particularly want to share you with anyone,” he confesses, reaching up to cup your face, run his thumbs softly over your lips. “But in this case…I believe I could make an exception.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You thought your nerves would be ashambles when the time to depart finally arrived, but now, standing in the quiet of the Ocular as Y’shtola gracefully reaches out to press elegant fingers to the auracite, watching as her soul is absorbed in a delicate flutter of dazzling blue aether as the other Scions before her, you find yourself calm as still water. Your eyes drift to Thancred, Ryne, and Gaia, the gunbreaker mirroring your soft smile of farewell.  His daughter bears up beside him with shining eyes, her head held high, hair strewn with flowers and braided into a complex circlet for the occasion by none other than Feo Ul. Gaia appears disenchanted with being present, but you know she is kind at heart, that she is attending for Ryne’s sake. You nod to them—what you wish to convey has already been said, and no words are necessary now. Your heart is full with so much hope, and no small part of it is that they might have a good, satisfying future ahead of them as the First burgeons into life with newfound opportunity.</p>
<p>Then you turn your eyes to where your Raha is quietly sharing a few private words with his beloved granddaughter, her proud eyes newly crimson, her usual stern expression softened as they share a final embrace. Then he is turning to you, eyes alight, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he approaches you, garbed in simple black trousers and a red tunic with golden trim, his sandals the only remainder of his role as the Crystal Exarch. He reaches out, and you think he means to touch the stone, but his spoken fingers move up to card through the hair framing your face.</p>
<p>“Are you ready?” he whispers, studying you intently for any signs of misgiving.</p>
<p>“Yes,” you breathe, pulling his hand down to brush a reverent kiss over his knuckles. He takes a shaky breath, offers you a brilliant smile as he carefully brings his aether to bear and ties to your humbled soul the final tethers of the enchantment that will allow you to cross the rift as soon as he is absorbed.</p>
<p>“Take care of him, warrior,” Lyna calls across the room, newly reforged staff held steady in her right hand as she regards you with serious eyes and a gentle smile.</p>
<p>“I will,” you answer firmly, and the way he looks at you is so beautiful that you have to hold yourself back from kissing him.</p>
<p>He, however, shows no such restraint, and his lips pressed warm and full against yours is the last sensation you feel before you are drifting across time and space, bearing the most precious cargo you will ever carry.      </p>
<p>For a blessing, everything goes precisely as planned. The moment you materialize in Mor Dhona and realize you are alone, you dash through the Rising Stones to the infirmary where your companions lie...and aside from Thancred’s slumbering form find them already awake and alert, Urianger and Y’shtola caught up in an animated conversation with Krile while the twins console a weeping Tataru. Your heart leaps at the sight of them, but still your frantic eyes cast about the room.</p>
<p>Where is he?</p>
<p>You hear hesitant footsteps behind you, and when you turn to give greeting, words fail you. </p>
<p>There he is, all traces of crystallization departed, his radiant smile wobbling as he examines his renewed body, eyes wide as he regards you with wondrous, open relief. You throw yourself into his arms with a cry and he spins you around, both of you laughing with elation. Everyone is watching but neither of you care. Let them see, let the whole world see what you are to one another, that you have crossed time and space to be together.</p>
<p>“I see you managed to keep your clothes, and oh...your hair,” you say shakily as you pull back to look him over, pressing a palm to where the crystal on his cheek used to be. “It’s gone all starlit.” His eyes widen once more, and he looks down to where his braid now flows down just past his shoulders, bright and silvery. </p>
<p>“So it seems,” he says with a shrug and a grin, then pulls you in for another embrace, strong and vibrant.</p>
<p>Your heart has never been so light.</p>
<p>The bells that follow are a whirlwind of catching up, introductions, securing rooms, realigning responsibilities, briefly going over the touchstones of your old lives, settling in. Everyone is tired but no one wants to sleep, and so you are unsurprised when he joins his arm with yours after dinner and gives you a ginger tug backwards as you make to head for the new quarters you will share together. Gods, the thought makes you happy to no end, even though you have a house awaiting your arrival. That your friends have made a place for the both of you in advance of your coming, that no matter where you go, you will be together...it’s heart-warming beyond all belief.</p>
<p>Apparently, however, he’s not quite ready to retire for the night, and you expect you know what he wants as you turn to him with questioning eyes. </p>
<p>“Might we...if you’re not overly worn from the day’s events, might we ride out to the Find?” he asks, flicking ears giving away his eagerness. You are, in fact, exhausted in every imaginable way, but looking into his beaming and hopeful face, noting how he’s practically bouncing in place...you could never deny him. You’ve never seen him as openly enthusiastic and happy as he’s been today, and if going to the Find is what he wants, you’ll pull through to see more of that smile.</p>
<p> And so you head with him for the stables, and in short order you are mounted on the handsome obsidian bird gifted you by Haurchefant, while he borrows the loyal traveling companion who has been with you nearly since you first stepped foot into your role as the Warrior of Light. You ride side by side, the wind whipping through your hair, the Tower drawing ever nearer on the horizon giving rise to such a jumble of emotions within that you cannot decide how you feel. When you look to him, his gaze is also on the horizon, but his expression is calm, his chin lifted with pride and defiance. <em>That’s what freedom looks like</em>, you think to yourself, and set your troubled thoughts aside.   </p>
<p> Given that it is well after dinner when you arrive, the camp is rather subdued, and you wonder if perhaps it there would be a more rousing welcome if the two of you return on the morrow instead.</p>
<p>“No, Rammbroes will be up with his evening coffee, I daresay,” he says, swinging down out of the saddle with practiced grace. You marvel at how he strides through the camp as though it he owns the expedition, but when his steps falter as you reach the central tent, it suddenly strikes you how much of his pitched energy today is born of nerves, and perhaps not entirely knowing what to do with himself. You rest a hand on the small of his back, and when he looks to you with the first traces of apprehension you’ve seen in him today, you offer a reassuring smile and open the tent flap yourself.</p>
<p>Sure enough, the gentle roegadyn is sat at his usual spot at the creaky old camp table, sipping at a foul brew dark enough to melt the sugar spoon and poring over a faded tome. He starts as he registers your presence.</p>
<p>“What in hells are you doing here, this time of night?” he asks, snapping his tome shut with surprise. When you grin and step aside to reveal G’raha Tia standing shyly behind you, the expression on the researcher’s face is priceless.</p>
<p>At some point in all of the talking and reminiscing you fall asleep, although you don’t realize you’ve done so until you’re mildly shaken awake and find your cheek plastered to the rough wood of the table surface.</p>
<p>“Come now, my love, they’ve prepared a tent for us…we can stay here for the night,” he whispers as you groggily sit up and register your surroundings, fairly certain you snored and probably drooled a little on the table. Well, it <em>is</em> late, you figure, and eyeing the clock you see it’s a bell past midnight.</p>
<p>You’d thought your first night together might be quite romantic, but it’s all you can do to stumble alongside him to your modest sleeping arrangements. Once inside you give your face a cursory wash in a bowl of tepid water someone has kindly provided, and are fast asleep before he has even fully settled in beside you.</p>
<p>Sometime in the night a subtle change in the atmosphere wakes you, and at first you think something is amiss…but when your eyes focus, you realize he is regarding you with a tender, thoughtful expression. He reaches over to brush your hair away from your face, runs gentle fingers along your jawline.</p>
<p>“Forgive me, did I wake you?” he whispers, scooting closer to press your foreheads together.</p>
<p>“I don’t think so,” you answer quietly. “Trouble sleeping?”</p>
<p>“Mm,” he answers. “For all I put my heart and soul into the research, I didn’t suppose…I don’t think I ever truly believed I would be here, like this, with you. I’m afraid I didn’t think through how it might impact me, coming home, coming back to this place.”</p>
<p>You might not be able to fully understand what this must be like for him, but you can certainly appreciate the sentiment.</p>
<p>“How are you?” you ask simply, reaching a hand up to stroke at his ears. He sighs, leaning into the contact.</p>
<p>“Happy, mostly…pray don’t worry, I could not have hoped for a better outcome. There is much to which I must adjust, but at least I knew that would come, if not in what scope or which details.” Your lips quirk at the corners as the beginnings of a purr rumble against your neck, as he nuzzles under your chin, pleased with your ministrations. After a moment he pulls away to intently regard you once more, and as you study him in turn you realize there are lines at the corners of his eyes that were not there before. Some aspect of the rift jump has aged him, although you reason that it may also have something to do with the fact that his soul is representing itself now rather than being filtered through an increasingly crystallized and ponderous physical form.</p>
<p>He breaks into your thoughts with a soft kiss, one hand reverently cupping at your face as he leaves your mouth and feathers smaller kisses up your cheek.</p>
<p>“Can we…?” he breathes against your ear, by now pressed close to your side. You are tired, and not particularly roused, and when you trail your hand down you find he is not in the most charged mood himself. This isn’t about lust, you realize, but grounding reassurance, security in a storm.</p>
<p>Maybe you could use some of that yourself.</p>
<p>Exhausted as you both are, you forgo all but the barest modicum of foreplay, and the act itself is unhurried and peaceful. His weight atop you is affirming, comforting as he moves inside you. It takes a while for either of you to get close, and he has to awkwardly reach a hand between the two of you to help you tip over the edge. That too is gentle and sweet, the soft ripples of afterglow buffering the edges of your worn nerves.</p>
<p>“Well, everything works,” he says with a sleepy grin as you cuddle close, and you both share a chuff of laughter as you finally drift into tranquil slumber, together after unspeakable hardship at the place where you first met all those years ago.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This fic is dedicated to my sweet, witty, artistic friend opteekal, who first made me seriously consider this possibility in lieu of an Exarch/Source G'raha merge. It's lovely to think of a Raha for each hand, but how to reach that point?</p><p>Not gonna lie, this one got away from me as I explored the implications. It was meant to take maybe a few days to write and be 5000 or so words, but ended up taking nearly three weeks XD This is also my first attempt at second person POV just to give it a shot, and I regret my life choices a little, but hope it turned out okay. As an aside, I do realize that Thancred is probably going to leave Ryne, but I really like the idea of him staying with her and Gaia and them being a family together ;;</p><p>Anyway though, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoy, please consider letting me know one way or the other! Writing a fic like this takes considerable time and effort, and a little encouragement goes a long way!</p><p>If you want you can hmu on twitter @syrcusgardens!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. G'raha Tia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Safely back on the Source, you and your beloved Raha head for the Tower to wake the younger G'raha Tia. </p><p>He is not particularly thrilled with either of you.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day finds you both at the Tower gates, hearts full with the thing you are about to do, all the ways this decision stands to change both of your lives forever. You find yourself both eager and beset with jitters of unease, still quite uncertain what you should say when you see him again. After some discussion you’ve decided to go into the Tower together, though you are to be the one to wake him. This at least you feel comfortable with, as you can readily understand that it would be far easier to see the face of one you love when you rise rather than your own visage peering back at you.</p><p>Your feelings as you stare at the sealed, monolithic gates are even more complicated than you expected they would be. On the First, it lifted your heart to behold them, a constant reminder that the Exarch lived  beyond those doors and that he loved you. That you were given leave to come and go from this magnificent structure as you wished made you feel precious, mighty, renewed. </p><p>Here, however, it’s hard to see the gates as anything but the doors that had closed and sealed on all of your hopes for a happy, vaguely normal future with someone who cared for you by your side. A place where you had sat more than once with tears spilling down your cheeks, where you still tucked away little gifts on holidays because you could not bear to forget him. </p><p>You look to your love, and his face is similarly clouded...but there is also resignation and resolve. He stretches out his hand toward the gates, waits for you to nod your assent, then breaks the seal that once broke your heart. </p><p>Although you fought along these corridors all those years ago, the place feels alien to you, the ambient sounds discordant and eerie. The thought of him sleeping in this for centuries makes your heart clench, and when you reach for his hand you’re not sure if it’s more for his sake or your own. </p><p>He leads you quietly through chambers you’ve never seen, through a maze of winking portals and hidden doorways. At last you come to a vast, open room with a beautiful vaulted ceiling networked in golden constellations encircling a structure that your heart wants to call a tree, but that your mind cannot comprehend. He squeezes hard against your fingers, and your eyes wander down the gold and crystal workings to see a diminutive figure lying curled up at its base, head resting on his arms and tail gently furled behind him.</p><p>When you turn to your love for guidance there are tears in his eyes, and without hesitation you move in to pull him close, give his ears a comforting smooth when he buries his face against your shoulder. What must it be like for him to see this, the sacrifice his younger self made, how fragile he must have appeared to the beleaguered souls who woke him after the 8th Umbral Calamity? To now bear witness to another version of himself being woken by his beloved hero with tidings of victory, rather than to be thrust into a dying land and forged into a chalice for the hopes and dreams of a doomed star?</p><p>When he pulls away from the embrace, however, his face is set with a stubborn determination that you have come to recognize will not easily be shifted. He looks to the sleeping miqo’te, then to you, and takes a wordless step back, nodding for you to move on without him. You can see the flash of fear in his eyes that you may not be able to do this after all, and you clasp his shoulder with the most composed smile you can manage before turning away to make the journey across the crystalline floor of the cavernous room.</p><p>How you have dreamed of this. Yes, there will be consequences. Yes, it will probably be painful, and awkward, and difficult for a while…But oh, how you’ve dreamed of being the one to wake him, of how things might have been different if it could have been you.</p><p>When your quiet footsteps reach him, you take a moment to study his face, so peaceful in slumber, every freckle just where it should be, a stray lock of bright red hair slanting over one cheek. You crouch down carefully, noting how uncharacteristically still his tail and ears are…if it weren’t for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, you would think him lost. He’s still wearing the clothes from the day you last saw the back of him.</p><p>Taking a breath to steady yourself, you reach to brush the hair from his face. His skin is cool to the touch, and he does not respond. When you clasp his shoulder and give him a gentle shake, nothing. You sit back on your heels with a frown, wondering how they’d managed to wake him, then strike on an idea. With a few whispered words, you pool your own aether into your fingertips, and reach out once more to touch his shoulder.</p><p>His eyelids flutter, his tail gives an involuntary twitch, and the breath leaves you in shock as bright emerald eyes open and blearily focus on your face. You stare at him, lips parted and heart hammering, and he stares back, blinking as though to clear his mind—and then bolts up into a sitting position so quickly he cracks you square under the jaw.</p><p>“Ow…gods, what are you doing here?!” he exclaims, voice hoarse from disuse as he clutches at his head. You reach up to massage your chin, lost for words at his very sudden reanimation, the unexpected viridian of his eyes, the way his tail lashes against the floor and his ears pin with shock. He seems to realize what he’s said, and his mouth works for a while before words form. “You can’t…how did you…already? That can’t be right, I…” Your heart aches for the panic in his tone, and you hold up your hands in a show of peace.</p><p>“Easy, we’ll explain everything as soon as we get you out of here,” you say, voice shakier than you’d hoped. It’s him…it’s really him, just as you remembered.</p><p>“I can’t just leave, I…we? Who’s this we? Ah…are you…are you older?” he asks, voice falling to a whisper, eyes wide.</p><p>“I’m afraid so,” you reply with a rueful smile, and his mouth drops when your Raha pads over to crouch at your side, expression so complicated as to be unreadable. You both watch the younger man as his eyes flit back and forth between you, and his struggle against panic is almost more than you can bear.</p><p>“Seven hells,” he breathes. “What happened?”</p><p> </p><p>You observe from afar as they sit on the steps leading to the Tower and the former caretaker tells his story. Even at this distance, you can tell the younger miqo’te is in shock from the stiffness of his posture, the way he listens with ears pitched forward and hands clenched in his lap. A bell passes, and the sun begins to lower.  You should leave, you know, perhaps take your chocobo for a ride, return to camp and deliver the good news to Rammbroes, anything to distract yourself from studying their body language and trying to decipher how the conversation is going. The smell of burning meat wafts up to your nose, and you curse as you realize you’ve nearly dropped it into the fire with your inattention. </p><p>They’ve been at it for so long, and yet, there’s a good deal to speak of, far more than can be covered in the space of a few bells. You still wonder if it would not have been better for them to wait to speak like this…the younger Raha is clearly exhausted, and the three of you had to stop to wait out dizzy spells several times on the way out of the Tower. But then again, you know them well, and neither is like to rest under these circumstances. After a few bites of chewy, charred meat, you put it aside, too sick with nerves to be hungry anyway. As the moon rises in the hazy night, you lie down to stare off into space and consider your future, rolling over to watch them in moments when you can’t take it anymore.</p><p> When you do find sleep, it is light and fitful, and so the footpads of his approach wake you immediately. You push up off of your frayed sleeping kit, scanning about  for your newest companion…only to find that he is not present.</p><p>“What did you tell him?” you ask, scrambling to stand, taking in how weary and pale your love appears.</p><p>“Everything,” he mumbles, and moves forward to seek the comfort of your arms. “Well, the abridged version, at any rate, but I won’t hide or mince the truth…I’ve had enough of that. Better to have it done with.” You sigh, run a hand over his shining braid and down his back, squinting through a low fog to where you can still make out the younger man sitting at the bottom of the Tower stairs.</p><p>“How is he? How are you?” you ask softly.</p><p>“Tired,” he says in a low voice, and you figure that’s probably meant to describe both of them. “I expected him to ask  a great many questions, but he was quite reticent. I don’t know, perhaps it would be best if you…” he says, pulling away to look toward the Tower, then catching himself as the scholar launches to his feet and swings into the saddle of the extra chocobo you’d brought for him. When he rides past the two of at full pelt he does not look your way, and the crystalline sand of his dust trail nearly puts out your fire. “…Ah. Never mind, I suppose,” your love says wearily, then turns to you and shakes his head with a helpless shrug. “I’m sorry,” he says simply, unable to quite meet your eyes. </p><p>“What precisely are you apologizing for?” you ask, tilting your head with a frown. He sighs again, looks to you with downcast ears.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he admits, rubbing at one arm. The answer is probably quite complicated, and he is in no state to supply it.</p><p>“Raha…If indeed you believe that he’s separate from you, you can’t apologize for him. What he does, that’s…from now on, that’s not you,” you say slowly, suddenly understanding in fuller truth that both of them, up to the point where you woke the younger man this morning, are the man you knew when you were younger. There really are two Rahas now, and you are going to have to somehow step up and make this work.</p><p>“I realize that, my dear one. I do, but…” He sighs, looking down the trail toward the camp, dust still settling after the scholar’s flight. “I must take responsibility for my decision…he may well feel that I’ve taken away the fruits of his sacrifice, that he’s slept five years for nothing. And to see his eyes, I...I believe I stripped him of Salina’s touch when I grounded my own soul in the Tower, which I don’t think he appreciated.” He makes a sound of frustration, shakes his head. “In the interest of full disclosure, I offered him the choice to merge eventually, if he would like. Forgive me, I didn’t ask you, and perhaps I should have,” he says softly, looking away and to the ground, tail stiff with contrition and grief even as he fidgets in place.</p><p>You reach out your hands to take his, run your thumbs gently over old callouses that tell but one field of the battle this dear man has fought for the cause that claimed most of his life.</p><p> “I love you,” you say firmly. “I love you now as the man you are, I love you as the man you were when we were younger…I love both of you, and whatever one you may become. We’ll work this out.” He gives you a pained smile, moves in for another embrace.</p><p> “I love you too,” he murmurs as you stroke his ears. You are not naïve enough to believe that your love is the only integral puzzle piece in this issue, or that things will work out perfectly just because you are determined…but he believes in you, and you will always give him your best.</p><p>“Do you think I should go after him? He only just woke…” you ask dubiously, and he gives a bare shake of his head.</p><p>“No, back I when I woke I couldn’t sleep for nigh on a week…realizing one has slept for so long is, ah, quite a shock, and does not dispose a man toward further rest lest there be some relapse. He’s probably at the Find asking questions,” he mumbles into your shoulder. You close your eyes and nuzzle at his ears…he’s never spoken of this, and it doesn’t surprise you that today’s events have brought up a good deal of past trauma. You are still quite worried, but also aware that the younger man likely needs space to investigate at his own pace. At least you’d both informed Rammbroes ahead of time about what you meant to do.</p><p>After a long quiet he pulls back, rubs at his face, and casts his eyes over the charred remainders of miq’abobs near the fire.</p><p>“I don’t suppose there’s any more of that?” he asks hopefully, and you blush when you remember the dinner you burned was not just yours.</p><p>“Ah, no, but I can go hunt for more,” you say sheepishly. He gives a chuff of laughter, stoops to pick up his bow from where it lay beside your bedding.</p><p>“We’ll both go,” he corrects you. “I could do with the distraction, and anyroad, I have waited many a year for the joy of hunting at your side.”</p><p> </p><p>It is very difficult to speak to someone who studiously does not wish to speak with you, and the extent to which the young scholar blatantly goes out of his way to avoid you over the next few days hurts. At first you think it might be because you’re never alone, so you reluctantly make plans with your older love to deliberately be apart, so that opportunities might come available for the scholar to approach you. </p><p>But he though he remains lodged at the Find, he does not come to you. Not when you are riding out on patrol, or reading his favorite historical tomes by the fire, or practicing the archery at which he so excels.</p><p>“Let me speak to him once more, now that the initial shock has waned,” your love beseeches you on the second night as he holds you upon your disappointed return to the Stones. “Thinking on it, there are a few…things...that I should have conveyed but did not, and the disclosure may aid in your cause.” You frown to yourself, thinking of how rigid and stock still the scholar was on the stairs, how he couldn’t look at the two of you when he rode past. </p><p>You can’t imagine that it’s a good idea for him to face this older version of himself again so soon, and anyway, you want to talk to him on your own properly. When you convey as much, the former caretaker gives a troubled nod, but does not press the issue as he takes you by the hand and leads you to where the Scions are yet sat down to dinner.</p><p>On the morning of the third day you wander into Rammbroes’ tent and find the site leader speaking with the scholar quietly at the table. The conversation comes to an abrupt halt when you appear, and the young miqo’te promptly flees, head down and ears low as he throws the canvas flap shut behind you.</p><p>“Not going well, is it?” Rammbroes notes dryly, and you can only nod, terribly disheartened. You think you might glean some details from the roe as to your old companion’s state, and find that he’s been imparting the many ways the world has changed in the past five years. Needless to say, the information has come as quite a shock. Apparently, however, G’raha Tia only listened to the site leader’s tales of your endeavors, and did not seem inclined to ask further questions. Worry clouds your heart as you head back out into the heavy morning air and wonder what to do with yourself.     </p><p>Should you leave? If he truly doesn’t wish to speak with you, is it perhaps time to go make yourself useful elsewhere, and give him the time he so obviously needs? Maybe that would be practical, but it sits wrong in your heart to leave without a single word spoken between the two of you. Perhaps things will never be like they were after all, but you’re convinced if you could just speak to one another, you could at least go some part of the way toward letting him know that you still value his friendship. Besides that, even if he’s not said as much you know your elder love feels terrible about how badly this has gone so far, and you don’t want him to feel like you’ve given up.</p><p> No, you can’t leave, but your restlessness won’t allow you to remain at the camp any longer. So, rallying against melancholy, you requisition a couple of bent, poorly maintained fishing poles and resolve to go angling for your lunch. At least something useful will be accomplished, and perhaps the respite will suffice to sooth your frayed nerves.</p><p> Mor Dhona is not particularly your favorite choice for fishing holes, and even at a distance the swamps stink of morbol, but at least it’s quiet and the scenery is calming. It doesn’t help your grey mood that the fish are slow to bite, and that the fog picks up just after midday. Your mind wanders and you doze a little, still not quite recovered from the rift jump. </p><p>A ripple across the algae-coated water startles you to wakefulness, and instinctively you set your hook. The line comes up empty though, and as you frown at your bare hook, you notice another, more powerful ripple break the surface. And then another, followed by a sudden wavering shriek that brings to mind tentacles slithering over dry leaves. </p><p>You lay your pole down on the rocky bank and look to the clouded sky for strength—you weren’t seeking to tangle with a morbol today, but apparently that’s what you get for the hubris of allowing yourself to nod off in the swamps. You can just make out the creature’s monstrous form barreling toward you through the thick foliage across the marsh, and ready your weapon as it bursts into view with a drenching spray of fetid water and rancid mud. Absently, you think to yourself that you’d rather not eat these fish after all. </p><p>You are not prepared, however, for the seething mass of teeth and tentacles to reel around and face another opponent, and as the creature turns you see that its writhing back is pincushioned with arrows. </p><p>And then there he is, wild-eyed and covered with mud, fierce and proud as he nimbly dodges whip-like tentacles left and right. You tense as he jumps backwards to land on an incoming tendril, and give a low whistle of respect when he gracefully balances for the split second he needs to fire an arrow into the morbol’s gaping maw, effectively preventing its signature debilitating breath. The creature shrieks and recoils in on itself, flailing wildly, and with a cry he tumbles backwards into the turbulent waters. You curse and bring your weapon to bear, but he breaks free of the surface, bow held high in one hand, and pins you with a glare so pointed you halt in your tracks.</p><p>“Let me!” he barks, the first thing he’s said to you in days, and as you uncertainly lower your weapon he springs back into action, all artful dodges and top tier marksmanship. You swallow as you watch him bring the creature to bear on his own, the picture of Ilsabardian tenacity. You’ve never seen him fight like this, now or then, and are reminded all over again what it must have taken from such a vivid soul to be tied down by the Tower as he was.</p><p>At last the creature is fully subdued, and only a few twitching tentacles disturb the water’s surface. The reek is terrific. He stands with his back to you, waist deep in muddied water, lurid green algae streaking his  hair. You watch his powerful shoulders rise and fall as he catches his breath, and after a moment he puts away his bow. You think perhaps now he might acknowledge you, but instead he turns and begins to diligently pry his arrows from the oozing carcass, inspecting the steel arrowheads for corrosion before returning them to his quill. </p><p>“That was impressive work,” you finally call out to him, holding your weapon close and taking a breath to steady yourself. He pulls himself up with a grunt onto the morbol’s limp form and continues his work in silence. Just as you despair that he’s not going to answer,</p><p>“I’d think by now you would know better than to sleep in such a place,” he scolds, making a show of inspecting his final arrow so that he doesn’t have to look at you. “Was it not you who lectured me about wandering off alone to sleep in trees?”</p><p>“It was,” you answer tremulously, heart leaping into your throat. <em>Don’t make a botch of this, don’t say the wrong things</em>, you plead with yourself silently. You watch with bated breath as he crouches atop the fallen beast, then seems to come to some internal decision as he rises to finally meet your eyes. </p><p>There is pride and anger, fear and heartbreak, hesitation and love, all flickering so quickly over his face as to be difficult to seize on any one dominant emotion. </p><p>“Can we talk?” you find yourself asking, and he stares at you for a long moment before hopping down into the muddied water.</p><p>“I suppose we’d best,” he acknowledges as he slogs toward you through the muck. “Didn’t expect to have this conversation with both of us stinking of morbol, but here we are.” You clench your teeth at the underlying bitterness in his words, but will not be deterred so easily. As he breaks free of the water to stand before you, you are struck as always by how hardy and beautiful he is, even covered in mud and with drying slime in his hair. </p><p>By unspoken mutual agreement you head east to put a little distance between yourselves and the swamp, electing at last to sit side by side on a convenient half crystallized rocky outcrop. Your clothes are unpleasantly heavy and drenched, but at least a few weak sunbeams are beginning to break free of the clouds. </p><p>“So…” you begin awkwardly, eying him as he sits stiff and still beside you. “How...how are you doing?” He looks to you incredulously and opens his mouth to speak, but something in your eyes stops him. His expression softens, and he looks down and away.</p><p>“I’ve been better,” he mutters, the tip of his damp, bedraggled tail flicking back and forth against the rocky surface. </p><p>“...Yeah, I can see how that might be,” you say brilliantly. He gives a bleak chuff of a laugh, and looks to you briefly with such misery that tears instantly sting your eyes.</p><p>“How about you, how’re you doing?” he asks in a low voice.</p><p>“I...I’ve also been better,” you say thickly, swallowing around a lump in your throat. He nods, and an awkward silence ensues. This is no good, you’ve got to salvage this somehow. </p><p>“Let me be clear,” he speaks up before you can work out what to say. “I don’t need your pity, nor your obligatory affection. I’ve been capable on my own all my life, and will continue to be so. Please, make this easier for the both of us and spare me.” There is a waver beneath his words that nearly breaks your heart...but you will not leave this be.</p><p>“I wept for you for years. I left you presents on holidays, and your name day when it came round. I wanted a life at your side,” you murmur, trying to reach him, to scale the wall he’s built in the bedrock of your halted relationship.</p><p>“Well, now you have me,” he says with an affected shrug. “Older, wiser, kinder, more experienced. The version of me that pulled you across time and space and gave you the love you’d always hoped for. Because he is me, isn’t he?” he says, pinning you with a pointed look before you can protest. </p><p>“W-well, in a manner of speaking, but-“</p><p>“He is. He’s me. And make no mistake, there’s a part of me that’s proud, that I should have the potential to achieve such accomplishments. But as for this extraneous version of me? I’ve done nothing,” he says, spreading his arms to his sides, then letting his hands drop into his lap. </p><p>“You’re not extraneous!” you protest, tensing against the desperation in your voice, struggling in your upset for how to make him understand that he is also important, loved, treasured. Before this conversation you had passionate notions of what to say, and now your traitorous, panicked mind is filled with aught but white space.</p><p>“He has everything I have, all the same memories,” he cries, shaking his head as he looks to you, his own upset finally breaking into his body language as his ears pin and tremble. “What am I to do, how am I to hope for a return to what we had? Or am I to join you as well, and stand by your side only to observe him outclass me at every turn? Fantastic!” he exclaims sarcastically, pushing himself up to stand, tail lashing. You can only watch, aghast and speechless, as he begins to pace, dried mud crackling and sloughing away as walks.</p><p>“I turned my back on you, I made my choice, I thought I’d never see you again! I expected to hear your stories...but not like this, never like this. Did the two of you think I’d be happy, that I’d be pleased to wake and find my future, my fate, my meaning, all accomplished and tied up neatly to the side for me, so I can… ‘live my life’?” he asks, waving his hands vaguely and shooting a brief narrow-eyed glance your way. </p><p>You can’t let him take you down with this, you can’t. </p><p>“Would you have rathered he merged with you without asking?” you ask, willing yourself steady. You don’t miss the fear that flashes in his eyes before he looks away and resumes his pacing. “You are more than the fate placed upon you by Allag!”</p><p>“Well, forgive me if don’t feel it right this moment,” he snaps sullenly. “I’m just coming to terms with the fact that I’ve lost five years of my life for nothing, that I’ve lost…” He looks to you again with shining eyes, looks away. “I’ve nowhere to go, nothing to show for myself, my savings disappeared with Val, and as it turns out, someone else has accomplished what I have devoted my entire life to achieving. Why couldn’t I have just d-” He freezes, eyes darting you with horror as he realizes what he almost said. </p><p>“I would be dead,” you work out, shaking with anger and sadness, “if you had not sealed yourself in the Tower. I would be dead, but before that I would have watched everyone I love die. Your five years in the Tower...gods, Raha, you spared me a fate worse than death.” Tears break free, and you don’t bother to wipe them away. His eyes widen, and though his lips part to speak, no words come out, his ears downcast as his shoulders hunch against your words. Your fingers clench painfully against stone. “That’s to say nothing of the fact that two worlds would have collapsed, that this star would be rendered barren. This sky, this air, our friends, our futures, our children...that we can speak like this...these are all the result of your five years of sleep,” you say, voice cracking with tension. You want to continue, want to tell him he’s treasured, that you never want to hear him speak of himself so again, that you’ll be there to stand beside him in a new life...but all of your words stick in your throat. </p><p>You stare stricken at one another for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a few seconds.</p><p>“I...excuse me,” he says shakily, and before you can register what has happened, he’s striding past you in the direction of the camp. Your eyes blur with tears as you take in his retreating back, and you bury your face in your hands and weep as the sun breaks free of the clouds.</p><p> </p><p>You spend the remaining hours of the day in a haze, and though you attempt to go hunting to bring back something to show for your troubles, your bleak mood distracts you at every turn. You wander dejectedly back to the Find as night begins to fall, and after some thought skirt around to the west to pick up your chocobo from the stable and head back to the Rising Stones. If anyone takes offense at your general appearance and stench, you don’t notice, and like as not your expression is enough to deter anyone commenting. At least it’s dark and most people are indoors…Mor Dhona has never had a particularly rousing night life. With a heavy heart you trudge to the front door of the Stones, and stop yourself just as you think to enter. If you track this reeking dried muck into the hallways Tataru will have fits.</p><p>Just as you sigh and turn to go around the back, the door opens, and Krile peers out at you.</p><p>“I thought I felt you lingering out here. Gods, what happened? Met the business side of a morbol, did you?” she tuts, then frowns as she looks to your face. “…I’m sorry,” she amends softly, and you wonder how much she’s picked up with that empathetic Echo of hers. “Go ahead and come around the back, I’ll start a bath for you.” You nod and give her as thankful a smile as you can muster, and do as she bids. She meets you at the back door in surprisingly short order, and when you give her a questioning look she gives an amiable smile. “I already had the bath half drawn for myself, but you look like you could use it far more, no offense. Third washroom to the right. I’ll bring you some clothes. Come to the kitchen when you finish, there’s cream stew left, and I’ll put on some tea.” You swallow tears again, grateful for her thoughtfulness.</p><p>“Is…is Raha here?” you venture, and she raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“Which one?” she asks, then shakes her head. “Forgive me, that there are two of them now has been…a lot to take in, though I imagine it’s considerably more difficult for you.”</p><p>“Has he been here, the younger Raha?” you ask weakly, and she gives a sad smile.</p><p>“He was, yesterday. Your Exarch is here, however, holed up in the study with Urianger. Now, go get cleaned up, and we can talk while you eat.” You droop a little to hear that he sought Krile before you, but then, she would be comparatively much easier to speak to at the moment. And perhaps it’s a good sign that he’s seeking out old friends. You wish you could have seen their reunion.</p><p>The wash and subsequent bath do your flagging spirits a world of good, and you finally realize that you are starving. It takes a good deal of scrubbing to rid yourself of the stench, but at last you are clean, dry, and presentable. Krile, bless her, has also brought your favorite pajamas, and it warms your heart to remember that there are others besides Raha the younger and elder who love you. Your reserved melancholy has not quite abated by the time you head down the low-lit hallways for the kitchen, but you do feel a little better.</p><p>“Come in, sit down,” she says, already pouring tea for the two of you. You thank her and bring your mismatched cups to the small round cooks’ table in the corner of the room, the wafting scents of chestnut and vanilla soothing as you take a seat for dinner.</p><p>“So, Raha came to see you…? How was he?” you ask tentatively.</p><p>“He thinks he’s lost everything. He’s devastated,” she says bluntly, and takes a sip of her tea.</p><p>“…Yes, that’s near as much what he conveyed to me,” you answer glumly, spooning at your stew.</p><p>When she asks you tell her about how you met him in the swamps, and your subsequent brief and disastrous conversation.</p><p>“I think you said what had to be said,” she says grimly. “As you well know, he tends to latch on to a particular viewpoint, and when he does he becomes possessed of a rather unfortunate case of tunnel vision. The sooner he’s broken out of these notions that he’s a failure, the better. With any luck, what you said today reached his heart. Be patient, my friend, and pray don’t give up on him.”</p><p>“Never,” you say, firm and quiet. You won’t leave him to his despair, not after all he’s done for you. She sighs and shakes her head, gazing into the distance for a moment before speaking.</p><p>“This might sound peculiar, coming from his close comrade of many years…but his upset only further proves to me that the two of you did the right thing,” she says with pensive frown, leaning back in her chair. “Raha was ever obsessed with his destiny, with dying for whatever noble cause his fate might serve him. It was always so discomfiting to observe his morbid inclination toward death coming up against his natural verve and zest for life. He had…he has so much to offer beyond what Allag put on him, and I told him that many times, but he never listened. I don’t think he could bear to hear it, honestly. Now he must reassess his life, and while it is assuredly painful, he does have the passion and the obstinance to come out the other side a better man. As you’ve observed.”</p><p>“You...you don’t think he would...hurt himself, do you?” you ask anxiously, unable to say what you really mean. This is not the first time she’s mentioned that the younger Raha had suicidal tendencies, and under the duress of his current state…</p><p>But she shakes her head.</p><p>“No, he’s braver than that. If he’s going to end himself it’ll be throwing his life on the sword of some cause—he had notions of dying as a martyr or a hero, not by his own hand.” Disturbing as it is to hear such information so plainly delivered, it is a relief to know that she believes he is safe.</p><p>You look to her thoughtfully and take your time to consider before speaking.</p><p>“I want him to know he hasn’t lost everything. I…I wish I could have responded better when he spoke to me today, but I’m still getting used to this new reality myself. The elder Raha only decided on this path a few days before we departed.”</p><p>“Typical,” she says wearily. “If the younger Raha has said as much to you, then it’s no breach of confidence for me to confirm that he feels you are no longer within his reach.”</p><p>“That’s not so,” you say softly. “In whatever way he may yet wish me to be a part of his life, I  am willing to try.” She nods, presses a hand to her lips in thought.</p><p>“If that’s so, I’ll give you a word of advice. You’re not spending time with the Exarch because you think being alone makes you more approachable, am I correct?” she asks shrewdly.</p><p>“Er, yes,” you acknowledge, surprised. “Is…is that unwise?”</p><p>“It’s certainly understandable, but it’s not going to help. I got the impression it hurt him, watching you pull away from your own happiness to appease his sorrow.” Your lips part with surprise—you’d never considered that he might feel this way, although remembering how selflessly the Exarch has loved you for centuries, it does make sense.</p><p>“But, he feels so challenged by…by the Exarch, he said as much,” you falter. You don’t like calling him the Exarch, you never have, but you’re beginning to appreciate that it’s a bit difficult to differentiate between them in conversation.</p><p>“He does, but this love, this relationship you have with the Exarch, that’s reality, and Raha’s always had an odd streak of practicality. If you and Raha are to recover any level of your past relationship, you’re both going to have to accept your current truths and find a way to forge those truths into your lives in a positive manner,” she explains gently. You mull her words for a bit, then sigh.</p><p>“Well, it would certainly be nice to not have to be apart,” you answer wistfully. “I was thinking to go after him tomorrow on my own…I wonder if I should.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she says with a shake of her head. “I can tell you this, however...until he came to Val, he spent almost all of his time alone, and even as a student and eventual lecturer he tended to keep to himself. I don’t think it was because he wanted to be alone, but because he didn’t know any better, never really understood how to join others. The few times I had to go looking for him, he was always surprised that someone would bother. I’m inclined to think that if you searched for him, there would be at least some part of him that would appreciate the effort. On the other hand, after today’s events, he may need a little time to sort himself.”</p><p>You nod quietly, remembering how he would sometimes just disappear during the expeditionary days, usually because he had a headache or was feeling low. He did tend to welcome your company back then when you sought him out, even if only to sit back to back and read in companionable silence.</p><p>“You mean to pursue this, don’t you,” Krile asks intently, drawing you out of your thoughts. “To travel with and care for the both of them at once. And please, think carefully about how you answer. Raha was my dearest friend at Val, and I would know your intent.” You meet her eyes, and respect that she is deadly serious.</p><p>“I do, as long as they are both amenable. I can’t pretend to fully understand how this has happened, but up to the age of twenty-four, they are both the man with whom I explored the Tower. I was falling in love with him, even back then…and his decision to leave caused me a great deal of heartache. I swore, before those sealed gates, that if the means came available to me in this lifetime, I would see him out of that Tower, that I would once again offer him a place at my side. I made that vow to both of them, and I intend to keep it. This isn’t just about stuffed up notions of honor,” you say, before she can interrupt you. “The two of them…I love them. I want to see them live, and be happy, and I want to be a part of that happiness, and to share my own joy. Admittedly, this is not what I planned for, but then, life seldom goes according to plan. I know it’s going to need time, and communication, that there will be mistakes and unique hardships. But I will give my best, I give you my word,” you say earnestly, hoping in your fatigue that you have conveyed your heart properly.</p><p>She stares at you for a long, hard moment, then leans back with a smile.</p><p>“Well, luckily for you, your effort usually more than suffices to garner success. I wish you all the best, truly. If there’s any way I can help in the future, pray don’t hesitate to ask.” It is such a relief to find that you have such a valuable ally and confidante in these strange new waters, and once again you find have to blink back tears as you smile back and nod your thanks. </p><p>The rest of the meal passes in easier conversation, mostly swapping stories of times spent with Raha as a young man, and how similar and different the Exarch is to his younger self. It’s good to talk to another who knows him so well, and when you bid her a warm goodnight, it is with a lighter heart and better understanding of the direction you will take moving forward.     </p><p>When you return to your room you’re surprised to find your love already in bed, lost in a book, a single lit candle at his bedside the only light in the room. You stand in the darkened hallway and just take him in—his silvery hair falling in loose waves over his shoulders, crimson eyes studious and gentle, the perfect structure of his strong, elegant hands as he turns a page, the uncovered tattoo at his shoulder faded  along with his memory of its workings. It’s overwhelming all over again that this dear, glorious soul has sought to walk the remainder of his journey through life at your side, that he has spent nearly his entire existence looking to you for hope and inspiration.</p><p>You join him in bed, and when he asks of your day you speak of the morbol and meeting his younger self, though you gloss over the more upsetting details. You suspect from his vexed expression that he can read between the lines, but you are determined not to spend the remainder of your evening being melancholy. There is so much ahead of you in life, so much potential and promise…that he is here with you at all is miraculous.</p><p>This time it is you who asks the question, you who ardently divests him of his nightclothes. You take comfort and joy in running your hands over him, spoiling him with exactly what he likes, delighting in the wavering pitch of his song when he reaches fulfilment from your knowing ministrations. He is so beautiful spread out beneath you, candlelight shining on his hair, freckles standing out against flushed skin, panting as he recovers, looking to you with a depth of adoration that makes your chest ache. You are worn from the stress of the day and meant only to delight in his happiness, but he is never content to take without giving. You know it brings him satisfaction to hear you cry out as well, and so you do, his mouth on you rousing you far more quickly than you’d expected, your completion at his hands rich, sweet, and affirming. He falls asleep first afterward, a smile tugging at his lips as he lies pressed up against you. You kiss his silvered eyelashes, comforted and warm.</p><p>This is a man who loves you, who has always loved you. You will gladly spend the rest of your life making sure he understands you feel the same about him, whatever form he might take.</p><p> </p><p>The next morning you wake up with the sunrise, eager to be off to the Find. Raha was ever an early riser in his youth, and with any luck you can find him before he makes plans for the day. You smile down indulgently at the Exarch, yet fast asleep, rays of the morning sun catching in his hair…apparently his intermittent sleep schedule is not going to work for him on the Source, and these past few days he’d been up too late, still running on the adrenaline and nerves of his return home. You dress quietly, then pen him a sweet little love note and leave it by the bedside. On your way out you grab a few hard crusted buns leftover from last night, and make your way through the cool morning air to the stables.</p><p>You know Krile warned you about making a show of being apart from the Exarch,  but this is different, you think as you ride across the rough-hewn path toward the expedition site. There’s a new peace in your heart, a profound gentleness of resolve that bloomed somewhere between camaraderie at dinner, your fingers running through silvered hair, and the first light of day. Yesterday there was doubt, fear, and confusion in your heart, and no doubt he saw that, saw that you didn’t truly know what to do with him, or yourself.</p><p>Not today.</p><p>When you inquire of the early risers milling about with their coffee as to G’raha Tia’s whereabouts, no one’s seen him yet today, but they sleepily give you directions to the spare tent serving as his temporary residence. It feels imposing to disturb him if he’s not already up, and maybe he needs the rest after yesterday.  </p><p>Considering your options, you realize that every moment you’ve had since your return has been spent either fretting or in the company of others, and decide to spend a few bells taking some time for yourself. After some thought, you stable your chocobo at the Find with plenty of feed and a treat for later, then teleport yourself to New Gridania. </p><p>The morning is bright and fresh, the aetheryte plaza mostly empty at this time of day. Most shops are still closed, but the Carline Canopy is always open early with freshly brewed tea and the comings and goings of travelers. You secure yourself a table and spend the next bell or so reading, people watching, and enjoying the ambience. Of course you are recognized, and a few adventurers stop to say hello, but for the most part your privacy is respected. Once the markets open you head over to pick up a few snacks for later and window shop—it’s been so long since you’ve had time for relaxation. By mid-morning you are refreshed, and as calm and settled as you’ve felt in weeks. </p><p>A bell later finds you back in the Find, and before you can even open your mouth to ask the stablehand informs you that G’raha Tia was seen heading in the direction of the Tower about a bell or so hence. Foggy tendrils of unease grip at your heart, but you brush them away with some effort. Krile didn’t believe he would hurt himself, and as he was now the Tower posed no threat to his safety. Aside from that, if the whole camp knows you’re looking for him, he probably knows as well.</p><p>Perhaps he’s waiting for you. </p><p>You find him sitting, pale and droop-eared, leaning against the gates that would render passage to the Ocular—were it to ever exist—a faded red tome opened across his lap. His journal, you realize, remembering all the evenings you sat together by the campfire in quiet companionship while he recorded his entry for the day and you read whatever snippet of history he deemed necessary to better your understanding of the expedition. You did enjoy the reading, but spent a good deal more time watching the firelight play across his face, studying his expressions as he wrote, wishing you could reach over and tuck back the hair that fell loose from his braid. </p><p>Aside from his dejected posture, something else feels off…and then you realize that it’s his clothes, uncharacteristically mismatched and shabby in various shades of brown. It takes you a moment to deduce with a sinking heart that he doesn’t have any of his own garments anymore save the ones he slept in, and likely no personal possessions remaining to him either. Probably some of his old associates had taken pity on him, and you are certain that has done nothing for his spirits. </p><p>He doesn’t look up at you and quietly closes his journal as you approach, but not before you notice with a twinge that the page was blank.</p><p>“Would it be okay if I sit with you?” you ask gently. His tail gives a single lethargic thump, and he gestures bleakly at the space next to him in welcome. You decide to take his acknowledgment as a positive sign, and settle beside him with just a little space between you.  </p><p>“Do you want to talk, or would you rather just sit together and read for a while?” you ask, noting that he’s brought a few tomes on aetherial theory. It looks dry reading, even for him. He curls in a little on himself, looks away and reaches for a book—then seems to decide against it, resting his hands in his lap instead. You wonder if you should begin reading the book you brought with you to make him more comfortable with the notion, but as you reach for your pack he begins to speak.</p><p>“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he mumbles hoarsely. “The things I said to you. I was well remiss.” His voice feathers away into nothing toward the end, and it nearly breaks your heart.</p><p>“Raha…” you start, then pause with a frown, “Ah, is it still acceptable for me to call you that?” He heaves a sigh, scrubs his hands over his face, and finally dares a quick glance at you. You struggle not to show your dismay--he’s obviously wept a great deal, and has yet to recover.  </p><p>“If you call him Raha and not me, I shall expire from jealousy,” he says, the purse of his lips showing vestiges of his old predilection to sulk when he was denied some odd or end about the Tower.</p><p>“I’m honored to call you both Raha,” you say with fervent sincerity, noting the way his ears perk just a touch. “Will you look at me?” His lips part with a shaky breath, and after a few aborted attempts, he finally meets your eyes with his own.</p><p>You have to take a breath yourself at the raw emotion on display, the vivid green flecked with gold that you’ve never had a chance to study this closely. You reach out a hand to cup his cheek, run a thumb over his freckles with reverence, heartsick as he catches his breath again, at the rapid tattoo of his pulse against your fingers.</p><p>“I’m sorry too…there was so much more I wanted to say, and I didn’t know how to say it,” you murmur. He opens his mouth as though he wishes to answer, but a long moment passes with nothing said, his cheek warm against your palm. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, will the knots out of your stomach. This is no time to let nerves best your resolve.</p><p>“Raha, you saved us all…I’m so proud of you,” you whisper, your own tears welling up to match his. The way his eyes widen and his mouth falls open, how his lower lip trembles and he clenches his teeth against the anguished whimper that tears from his throat…gods, you’ve seen that exact chain of expressions on the Exarch so recently, you can’t keep back your own sob as you helplessly hold your arms out to him.</p><p> He falls against you with a pitched cry, and you pull him in close and tight, his heart hammering against yours and his face buried in your neck, arms firm around your lower back. When you rest your cheek against his hair the scents of ginger, ink, and campfire smoke bear down on you with devastating nostalgic familiarity. Unbidden, memories of five years past reel through your mind with astonishing clarity—the goosebumps you felt the first time you heard him raise his pure voice in song to demonstrate an Allag hymn, the uncertainty of waking in the dead of night to hear him weeping quietly on his side of the tent, the thrill of racing your chocobos through a summer storm and being scolded by Rammbroes, your delight in his unabashed enthusiasm when you first snuck into the Labyrinth with him to go exploring.</p><p>The heartrending shine of fearful hope in his eyes the night he crawled into your sleeping kit and asked if you would have him by your side when all was said and done.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I cannot imagine that G'raha Tia is going to deal very well with waking to find that his grand fate was just to lose five years of his life and also see WoL together with an older, more accomplished version of himself. Also he has nothing left to his name...That's going to be a pretty rocky start ;;  Sorry for the abrupt cut-off of this chapter...this fic was originally intended to be a one-shot, but for length I've decided to split it up.</p><p>Thanks so much again for reading! If you enjoy, please consider letting me know one way or the other! Writing a fic like this takes considerable time and effort, and a little encouragement goes a long way!</p><p>If you want you can hmu on twitter @syrcusgardens!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Two of Them</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Is it possible for WoL to keep the two of them close, or is it too much to hope for after all?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You thought you would be fine, you told yourself all morning that you would be fine, but you are whimpering as much as he is, holding fast like you’ll never let him go again. </p><p>“I’m proud of you, I’m proud of you,” you whisper in a repeated litany against the soft fur of his ears, swaying together as you strive to comfort one another. </p><p>“Was…was it truly enough…?” he chokes out when he can form words. “All those generations of…of that godsforsaken eye dogging my tribe…and…”</p><p>“It was more than enough, more than should be asked of anyone,” you whisper, stroking his hair as he calms. You would touch his ears as you had in the later days of your relationship, but are uncertain as to where his boundaries now lie. He probably doesn’t know himself. </p><p>“Oh Azeyma, this is not what I...hmm…” He tenses and shifts, and you think he means to pull away, but he bunts up against your chin and remains where he is, tail flicking behind him. You feel as though the sun has cast rays upon your heart, the simple gesture of affection conveying so much more than words might. “It occurred to me last night, after we parted...one cannot resolve to make a heroic sacrifice and then believe that he may choose the terms of his loss,” he mutters against your neck. “I was selfish, and naive...and...and the manner of my parting was unbecoming. It shames me to admit that I was relieved that I would never be faced with your pain.” </p><p>At this he does pull back, and though his freckled cheeks are tear stained and his eyes puffy, his expression is fierce. “I swear to you, I intend to try to make amends, and I know I’m capable of far more than drowning in my own misery. That said,” he falters with a self-deprecating laugh, “I would understand if my aid is not of any true value to your cause, as far as you’ve come by now.” He gestures vaguely toward his newly viridian eyes, and you wonder if he’s aware he’s done so, the way his vision turns distant and inward. </p><p>He starts when you reach out and take his warm hands into yours, run your thumbs over the familiar roughness of his archer’s callouses, the ink stains from whatever writing he’s managed these past few days. </p><p>“Raha, your worth is not determined by your connection to the Tower. The night before you left, you offered me your bow, should I have use of it,” you murmur, voice still watery as you study your joined hands. “And I told you that I would gladly have you by my side. That hasn’t changed,” you say, looking up to his wide eyes with a wobbly smile. He blinks, gives a shy chuff of a laugh, looks to your intertwined fingers and tentatively runs his thumbs over the back of your hands.</p><p>“It...only feels perhaps a week ago that you said those words to me, and yet, so much has changed, I…” He shakes his head with a weak smile. “I’ve always wanted nothing more than to be an adventurer, but that was never to be my lot…and as you’ve no doubt surmised by now, I never truly believed I’d be able to journey at your side, but I...I had to know if you’d have me. Before I left.” He looks to you with woeful contrition, and you give his hands a reassuring squeeze. Yes, you’d certainly sorted that out, and at the time it caused you no small amount of tears...but you also understood. </p><p>“Do you need time to think about this?” you ask gently. </p><p>“Oh gods, don’t mistake me, I want nothing more in the world than to adventure with you,” he amends hastily, and his unexpected candor and perked ears warm your heart.</p><p> “But…?” you venture, sensing there is more. He heaves a sigh, and when he pulls his hands away to rest them in his own lap, you accept that with grace.</p><p>“But I don’t know my place, or what I might have of value to offer...I don’t want to be welcomed out of obligation—or just from sentiment, no matter how dearly I think of you. I want to be useful, I want to do well,” he says with a sad smile, the stubbornness you have come to know so keenly shining in his eyes. “Were I to be ever at your side playing the adventurer, holding you back...it should be quite vexing for us both.”</p><p>“You have expertise in Allag history, at a time when the Empire is tirelessly exploiting Allag technology to further their means...your insight would be extremely welcome to our cause,” you point out, prepared for this particular insecurity on his part. He shrugs and gives an annoyed flick of his ears. </p><p>“He can do all of that for you, I’m sure,” he says dismissively, perilously close to a pout. You fight the quirk pulling at the corner of your lips—you’d forgotten how often he sulked, back then.</p><p>“Do you really think we only have room for one Allag expert? Anyway, his expertise is more in the field of aetherology and rift dynamics these days, and you’re far closer to your chosen field of study,” you reply with some exasperation. You are also very familiar with his penchant for downplaying his worth and achievements, and it strikes you that you may have quite a long journey ahead in helping him understand his own value as a person…but it is a journey that you will gladly undertake.</p><p>“That’s true, but-“</p><p>“It’s quite true, I assure you,” a voice behind you interrupts, and the two of you fall back a bit as the Tower gates crack open. Once you’ve righted your balance you turn to see the Exarch smiling down at you, apology mingling with mischief in his crimson eyes. Even in his simple fitted trousers and green traveling tunic he exudes an aura of humble formidability, a brightness of purpose. </p><p>“How did you get here?” you ask as he approaches, wincing a bit as the younger man beside you tenses and turns his gaze to his lap. </p><p>“I wondered if I might still be able to teleport to the Tower, and as it turns out, I can,” he declares, clearly pleased with himself as he turns to shut the gates.  “And it was never my intent to eavesdrop on a private conversation, though I thought I might find the two of you here. It seems there’s evidence that the Empire is testing a new weapon—Sapphire this time—and your presence is requested at the front by tomorrow. I took it upon myself to fetch you.” You stifle a groan; the timing is awful, and you’d been looking forward to the respite. He sympathetically inclines his head to you, then looks to the scholar hunched at your side. “May I sit as well?” he asks gently, and receives the barest of nods in return. </p><p>You wonder what he is about when he carefully settles not beside you, but on the other side of the younger man, who judging by the rigidity of his tail and flattened ears is quite uncomfortable with being so hemmed between the two of you. You raise your eyebrows at your love in warning, and he raises his back in innocent challenge. </p><p>“Will you be coming with us then? To Ala Mhigo?” His blunt question is softened by his obvious eagerness to be on the road himself. The younger miqo’te cuts his eyes to you, looks back to his hands.</p><p>“I...I don’t know,” he mumbles. You look between the two of them as their tails begin to twitch at the same time, trying not to fidget at the sudden swell of palpable tension. There’s a sharpness to the Exarch’s eyes that worries you, but you try to trust that he knows what he’s doing.</p><p>“Do you accept that we have the same background, the same memories up until we sealed ourselves into the Tower?” the former caretaker asks, and you frown at the question, wondering where he’s going with this.</p><p>“…Yes,” the scholar admits reluctantly. “I…I can feel my soul in you, although that’s quite odd to say out loud.”</p><p>“Excellent. Then, you know I’m correct when I say you want nothing more than to be an adventurer, than to travel beside them, yes?” he asks, gesturing to you pointedly.</p><p>“Er…yes, that’s right,” he says, crimson rising in his cheeks. There’s a blush blooming on the Exarch’s visage as well, though he’s learned far more by now how to forge through his own bashfulness. “But I…I haven’t done any—I mean, I’d just be a fledgling adventurer, and I’m not like to hold up against the likes of the two of you.”</p><p>“Are you giving up, then?” the elder man asks crisply, and the younger bristles, his tail fluffing behind him. You watch the exchange in anxious silence, though it’s good to see the scholar still has some fight in him.</p><p>“No, I…I just think perhaps a more humble start is in order. I’ll just be a disappointment at this rate, and I…” He cuts his eyes to you again, rubs at his arms in a familiar gesture. “I couldn’t bear it, being a disappointment, being less,” he ends in a whisper that physically hurts your soul.</p><p>The Exarch heaves a sigh, and then, with a tenderness you’ve only ever seen directed your way, reaches out a hand and gently lays it atop his younger self’s head.</p><p>“You did well. I know you don’t understand yet, but you did well,” he says softly, and your nails dig into your legs as the scholar makes a noise like a wounded animal.</p><p>“I didn’t,” he chokes, burying his face in his hands. “I slept for five years, I didn’t d-do anything, that was you, you’re the hero, and I’m just…just…” he whimpers, shoulders trembling.</p><p>“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for<em> your</em> sacrifice, if it weren’t for <em>you</em> sealing the Tower away to protect future generations…that was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To protect everyone, as did the heroes of eld? <em>You</em> did that, G’raha Tia. This world lives because you sealed yourself in the Tower. You did that. You did well,” the Exarch reiterates quietly, his smile soft and beautiful as tears track down his cheeks.</p><p>You want to bury your own face in your hands, to wipe away the tears dripping into your lap, but your breath has seized in your throat, and you cannot look away.</p><p>Gods, was this what the younger Raha needed all along, to be accepted and found worthy by this elder version of  himself? Was your beloved trying to insinuate previously that he himself needed to have this conversation for his own peace of mind, and in your misguided well-meaning intent you’d asked him to refrain?</p><p>“My sacrifice is nothing compared to your centuries of struggle…I will never match you, I’ll never become what you are,” the younger man keens in despair, shrinking in on himself, tail wrapped close around his legs.</p><p>“Nothing? You gave up what we both wanted more than anything—a life at their side. You gave up the soul mate you’d always dearly dreamed of, you gave up the joy and glory you would have taken in liberating Ishgard, Ala Mhigo, and Doma next to them. You gave up on those precious hopes to protect a distant future that you did not believe you would ever see. Is that not enough?” the Exarch asks roughly, his own voice finally cracking as he runs a firm hand soothingly over the weeping scholar’s ears. “When is it going to be enough for you, for the both of us?”</p><p>Unable to restrain yourself any longer, you turn to wrap your arms around G’raha Tia’s huddled form and lay your cheek on his shoulder, your tears soaking into his shirt.</p><p>“See? You don’t have to be me to be wanted. They wished you to be part of their life, and still do. Does it not occur to you that it will be a different experience with you than it is with me, that we can all grow together in a myriad of  intertwining paces and paths? They wanted to see the man <em>you</em> would become as you grew, so show them,” he challenges, voice shaking with passion, the barest hint of plaintiveness filtering through his command. Knowing as you do that his words are for himself as much as for the younger G’raha Tia, that he has finally come to realize the value of his own worth, his own sacrifices…</p><p>Gods, you love them both so much in that moment that you feel your soul might lift from your body.</p><p>You don’t know how long the three of you sit, you snuggled against G’raha Tia’s side and the Exarch soothing the younger man’s ears, gently reminding him from time to time that he’d done well, that he had the right to dream, to look toward a new life. By the time the scholar’s sobs quiet once more you are aching from your awkward position, yet still you have no desire to move, to be the one to end this bittersweet moment of catharsis.  </p><p>Eventually, he gives a tentative shift, and both you and your elder love pull back in quiet understanding. The scholar takes a steadying breath, then turns his head to rest his cheek on his knees and look at you. If you weren’t so emotionally exhausted you might have wept again to see the exhausted peace in his eyes, the faint curvature of the first true smile he’s graced you with since he woke. You smile back, probably as worn as he looks and no less full of the same speculative hope. As he pushes up to sit you cast a loving, apologetic glance the Exarch’s way, and he smiles with just a hint of self-consciousness and gives a little shrug.</p><p>Of course he would know his own heart, and once more you chide yourself internally for trying to shoulder everything on your own because you decided by yourself that it was for the best. Thinking to how often you’ve scolded him for the same shortcoming, you feel your cheeks warm. Clearly, you also have a few things to learn yet about teamwork and considering your options to the fullest.</p><p>“…Well,” the scholar says with embarrassment, ducking his head. “That was certainly…I…thank you. Thank you both,” he finishes quietly, setting bravado to the side in favor of sincerity at the last moment. “Forgive me my abruptness, but I…I believe I could do with some time alone to think, if…if you don’t mind.”</p><p>“Not at all,” the Exarch says genially, rising gracefully and offering a hand to pull you up, catching you as you stumble a little after having sat in an odd position for so long. The younger man looks up at you both, and though the effects of his bouts of weeping are writ heavy on his pale features, his beautiful emerald eyes are as clear as you’ve seen them.</p><p>“We’re like to leave on the morrow for Ala Mhigo, then,” you venture, wishing desperately that you had more time for him to consider, for all of you to adjust to this new reality before you must head back into the fray. “You’re welcome to join us, but even if you choose not, I should very much like to see you again before we leave. If you’re amenable.”</p><p>“I’ll come in the morning, an hour after the sunrise,” he promises, then frowns. “If I decide…I…I’ve never been to Ala Mhigo. I can’t teleport.”  </p><p>“Neither can I, so we’ll be taking the long road anyway, and perhaps an airship?” the Exarch adds at the end, and you smile fondly as he gives you a hopeful nudge to the side.</p><p>“There’s a few regular flights heading back and forth from Gridania with supplies and aid—I daresay we shall be granted passage,” you reply, gesturing to indicate that you’re including both of them in that potential ‘we’.</p><p>“I see,” the younger man says pensively, offering a faint smile. “Thank you, that does me well to know.” There’s so much more that you want to say, to tell him you love him before leaving…but now is not the time. You never said it before, and to say it now…he’s not ready to hear it, might not believe you, might question your reasons. So instead you try to convey with your eyes what you dare not put into words, and the way he calmly holds your gaze is reassuring. With a lighter heart you bid your quiet goodbyes, and make your way down the path a bit before joining hands with your older love to teleport together back to  Mor Dhona.</p><p>“Forgive me,” you say penitently, turning to hold him as soon as you manifest, not caring who sees. “I should have let you help from the first. I was wrong.” He returns the embrace with a hum of tenderness, reaching to tangle one hand in your hair.</p><p>“You wanted to try on your own, and I respect that…but this has never been only your burden to bear. It was my decision not to merge, and I…perhaps it’s selfish, but I also want to have some part in his life, to perhaps ease him away from a few of the mistakes I made. I want to watch him attain happiness, to see for myself the man he becomes on this path, away from the Tower and the toll of Allag.”</p><p>You pull back and look into his eyes, humbled as always by the love and reverence you find there. “My dearest Raha, caring for the two of you has never been a burden. A challenge, perhaps, insomuch as there is challenge in all manner of relationships, but never a burden.” The way his face lights up is desperately endearing, and when he looks at you through silvered lashes and presses a chaste, full kiss to your lips, you hope everyone in Mor Dhona sees how proudly in love you are with this profoundly incredible, perfect miqo’te. </p><p>He even forgives you when you realize with dismay that you’ve gone and left both of your chocobos stabled at the Find, and joins you on the trail back to the site with only minimal jokes at your expense. True love.</p><p> </p><p>The next morning sees you both packed and waiting at the aetheryte plaza, the weather surprisingly clear for Mor Dhona, the fresh smell of dew yet hanging heavy in the air. The fair condition feels auspicious, but you find yourself checking your chronometer once more as you set your bags on the stony ground.</p><p>“Don’t worry, he’ll be here,” the Exarch mumbles, taking one of your hands as he peruses the new map of Ala Mhigo gifted him by Tataru. You look to his unworried face, then with appreciation over his lovely new traveling attire, also a gift from the burgeoning seamstress. You especially enjoy that the gold-worked red and black top is sleeveless—his broad shoulders and archer’s arms are always a pleasure to behold, and that his tattoos are visible again is a lovely bonus. Combined with the Ala Mhigan cut of his trousers and the banding of his sandals up his powerful calves, it suits him very well, and the simple golden tie in his starlit braid is a  dazzling band of temptation. You’ll be pulling that loose eventually, no doubt.</p><p>You blink away your distraction and cast your eyes about the plaza—and halt as your gaze  lights on the dear man you have been seeking, who watches you from a few yalms away with nerves that he quickly tries to cover as he sees you looking.</p><p>Your heart leaps at the sight of the traveling pack on his back, the possible symbolism in that he has shorn himself of his braid. You’ve never seen either of them with short hair, and the effect is very roguish and fetching.</p><p>“Ah, good morning,” he calls, and as he makes his way toward the two of you, the Exarch gives your hand a  meaningful squeeze. “I’m here,” he announces breathlessly as he reaches you and does his best attempt at a bright, confident smile. “I’m, uh, I’ve been told perhaps there’s an adventure to be had.” You beam and think to answer, but your older love beats you to it.</p><p>“So there could be, if you fancy yourself an adventurer these days?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in challenge.</p><p>“Well, I do find myself in need of employment, and this seems as good as anything else. Not that I’d ever expected to take up this posting alongside another version of myself, but what can you do, I suppose,” the scholar answers with a shrug, and you note with an admiring nod to yourself how quickly the simple banter makes his shoulders relax.</p><p>“Hmm yes, unfortunately it seems that part of all the sacrifices you’ve made is having to deal with me. My apologies,” the Exarch grins, clearly not sorry at all.</p><p>“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, as they say. Who knows though, I might learn something. Greater miracles have occurred,” he replies, narrowing his eyes at his would-be elder self.</p><p>“I may learn a thing or two as well,” the Exarch answers with a gracious nod, and the scholar blinks at the sudden shift to humble sincerity before looking away with a scowl and a renewed blush.</p><p>You look between the two of them, wonder how they’re going to cope with this, how much they’re going to have to affect comfort until the three of you can find the balance that works. But they’re obviously willing to try, and that means the world to you. You look to the younger miqo’te, clad simply in worn field trousers and a burgundy tunic cut a size too large for him—clothes clearly borrowed from the other researchers at the Find—and are glad to know that Tataru has an outfit on the sewing table for him as well. Now might be too soon, but with a quest or two under his belt, you hope he will feel worthy enough to accept the gift.  </p><p>“We’d better get going,” you speak up, and the way they look to you with an identical perk in their ears brings a puff of laughter to your lips. The Exarch squeezes your hand again, and this time you hold out the other to the long lost Raha of your younger days. He stares at your offering of companionship, and you will yourself to wait patiently as a  host of emotions play over his face—trepidation, joy, yearning, hope, fear, love, and others that flit by too quickly for you to identify. Just as you begin to dismay he might change his mind, he reaches out and takes your hand in his, warm and firm.</p><p>When you grin and pull him to you he laughs, and you will remember the sound of that unfettered joy for the rest of your life. You stand with your eyes closed, taking your time to savor the moment, the way their hands feel in yours. It is not the same, you realize—in the Exarch there is the warm, comfortable, knowing touch of a lover, while in the younger G’raha Tia you can feel the tentative, nervous, happy beginnings of a renewed relationship that does not quite have a shape yet but is no less loving for the lack of definition. Heart alight, you open your eyes to their bright, hopeful gazes of crimson and viridian. You enjoy the comfort of a shared smile, and then turn toward the aetheryte hand in hand to take the first step into your blossoming new future with the two of them.     </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I believe whatever sort of relationship these three end up with, it will be complicated and full of unique challenges, but also healing and rewarding. I like to think of sleepy Raha gradually finding himself and growing in confidence, and that the WoL and the elder Raha would help him on this journey. </p><p>Thank you so much for reading, and for sticking with my interpretation of this interesting dynamic until the end! If you enjoyed, please consider letting me know one way or the other! A little encouragement really does go a long way! </p><p>If you want you can hmu on twitter @syrcusgardens!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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